


LAY ON HANDS

by Mikkeneko



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Fluff and Crack, M/M, Massage, much less smut than expected
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 17:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4109467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikkeneko/pseuds/Mikkeneko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Championing is tough, tiring work, and Hawke is feeling the burn of stiff and aching muscles. Anders offers to help him out with a friendly massage, but the evening isn't going quite as Hawke planned...</p>
            </blockquote>





	LAY ON HANDS

Garrett Hawke was beginning to seriously rethink the lifestyle choices that had led him to this situation.

Things had been going so well lately. None of his friends were having life- or city-threatening crises just at this exact moment, and the Champion work was taking a turn for the better - any mission he managed to complete without having to A) kill the people he was supposed to be helping, B) ruin an innocent person's life, or C) royally piss off someone in high places in the city by failing to do A or B was a success in his book.

Add that to a comfortable life of high style in Hightown and a beautiful, considerate, feathery boyfriend, and everything was coming up Hawke.

It had been one of those good evenings, with Hawke and a fair quorum of his friends gathered at the Hanged Man to reminisce under Varric's benign eye. Even Anders had joined them for a change, taking a night off from fighting the injustices of the world; he was leaning comfortably against Hawke's shoulder, seeming too tired to join in the revelry but smiling at it all the same.

With Anders on his right arm, Hawke had reached across for his mug with his left and aborted the movement halfway, wincing. Anders, who had caught both movement and flinch, sat up with a frown. "Everything all right, love?" he asked. "Not hiding injuries from your healer, are you?"

"No, no, of course not," Hawke had said quickly. "Just a bit stiff. And not in the fun way, either."

Anders' frown deepened as he reached out and placed his hands on Hawke's arm and shoulder, pressing lightly. "I'd say you are. Maker, Garrett, you're locked up like a statue! No wonder it hurts."

Hawke shrugged, which was enough to elicit another wince by itself. "One of the rarely-seen downsides of the Champion lifestyle, I'm afraid," he joked. "Can't be helped."

"Hmm." Anders glanced over at Isabela - deep in conversation with Merrill - then leaned in close to Hawke's ear, speaking softly so that the rest of the tavern didn't overhear. "If you'd like, I could come up to your estate later tonight, and try to do something about that."

It was as though a heavenly choir had burst over Hawke's head, and his imagination immediately leapt in to fill in the details: Anders in his bedroom, the candles burning low, warm sweet oil coating his hands. Anders had  _nice_  hands, warm and strong, and it was easy to imagine those hands moving slowly over his back, lower and lower until they caressed lovingly over...

"Sure," he said, maybe just a little too quickly. "I mean - if you wouldn't mind. I'd appreciate it."

And that was how he'd come to find himself here, face down on the fancy rugs in his bedroom, deeply regretting his life choices. Just as in his fantasy, he was bereft of clothes, but that only meant there was no extra layer of padding or protection from the sadistic blond demon driving pointy elbows ruthlessly into his ribs with a strength that his skinny frame ought not rightfully to have possessed.

"Honestly, Garrett," Anders chided him, as his elbow rolled over another knot with a crackling POP. "What have you been doing to yourself? It's like grinding marbles against granite back here."

Hawke could only agree with that painful assessment, and he let out another whimper as his first rib shifted slightly back into alignment. "This is payback for the Antivan Oven thing, isn't it," he moaned.

He couldn't see Anders' face, but he heard a distinct breathy chuckle as Anders' hands settled themselves on his spine, just at the arch of the curve of his back, and then pressed down. His spine realigned itself with a sickening series of  _cracks,_ and Hawke whimpered.

Anders tsked, even as he took hold of Hawke's forearm and bent his arm up behind his back. Hawke yelped. "This is what happens when you don't warm up properly before you exert yourself," Anders scolded, pressing sharp bony knuckles up under the edge of his shoulder blade. "You pull a muscle, or strain a tendon, and the entire rest of the joint locks up around it in a protective holding pattern to prevent more damage - even after the injury is healed, the muscles just keep holding on."

"It's not my fault," Hawke objected, trying not to let it sound  _too_  much like a whine. "Shades and bandits aren't usually considerate enough to - ow! - announce themselves before they jump out at you, you know - ow!"

"Quit being such a baby," Anders said briskly, folding Hawke's arm back to his side. Hawke barely had time to breathe a sigh of relief before Anders grabbed his left arm and started over. "You should at least be doing stretches every night, so that the tension doesn't build up quite this much. I'll give you a set you can do every night before bed."

"And you'll make sure I do them?" Hawke grinned into the rug, then yelped as unyielding fingers zeroed in on a point right under the edge of his shoulder blade and pressed  _hard_. "Ow! Scorching flames, Anders!"

"You know, this would be easier if you tried to relax," Anders said, without remorse. He laid Hawke's arm back by his side, and for a moment Hawke dared to breathe - until Anders placed the flat surface of his fists on either side of his spine, just where his hips began, and bore down with all his weight.

The rug was thick and plush, but not nearly enough to absorb the force Anders was pouring into him, and Hawke clutched a little at the thick shag weave and tried manfully not to whimper. Honestly, it wasn't even that Anders was  _hurting_  him - he had an uncanny knack for avoiding nerves or pressing against the edges of bone - so much as that he somehow managed to find every little nook and cranny of his body that Hawke hadn't even realized had been hurting, and brought very vividly to his attention YES THAT ACTUALLY HURTS QUITE A LOT.

Anders sighed and eased back, and with the release of the pressure came a sudden, blessed cessation of pain. The breath  _whooshed_  out of Hawke's lungs as Anders sat back, then gave Hawke a brisk slap on the ass. "There, all done," he said. "At least for now - that's all I can do in one session without risking more good than harm. Into the tub with you, and soak for at least twenty minutes before you come out. Healer's orders."

Hawke sat up slowly, groaning as his muscles shifted and creaked. "You're awful," he accused in a weak voice. Anders only smirked at him, and Hawke scowled as he hobbled off for the tub, feeling his joints clicking back into place with every step.

The bath, thankfully, was already full and steaming - there were  _some_  advantages to dating a demon sadist mage, he supposed - and Hawke sank into it with a sigh of relief. The heat soaked into every joint, leaving his muscles feeling loose and easy, and as he floated there, blissful and weightless, he realized that he actually did feel  _much_  better. Something in the water, he realized with a sniff - something salty and bitter, that probably had come from Anders' stores, sinking into his skin and helping to relax him even more than the heat alone could have done.

There was a splash that rocked the water around him, raising the level of the waves to lap at his neck, and Hawke opened his eyes as a very naked Anders climbed into the tub with him. "Well, as long as you had this big bloody tub, I thought I might as well," he said to Hawke's inquisitive glare. "Honestly, Garrett, I don't know why you need a tub that seats four otherwise."

He had in one hand a long glass bottle, holding it carefully above the hot surface of the water, and a pair of glasses from the kitchens. Hawke watched with interest as he fumbled around to pour a glass and hand it over. "This'll help you relax," he informed him. "Then bed, and you'll feel like a new man in the morning."

"Bed already?" Hawke objected, and stretched out one leg under the water to bump up against Anders. "Weren't you saying that there were some special stretches you were going to help me do?"

"Well, we  _could,"_  Anders said judiciously, before losing his fake-clinical attitude and grinning back. Hawke stole the wine bottle and second glass from his hand, poured a glass for Anders and handed it over.

Soaking in a hot tub with a bottle of wine and a handsome,  _naked_  apostate. Maybe there was something to be said for his lifestyle choices after all.

 

* * *

 

 

~end.


End file.
